


a bat, a buffoon and a baby

by Words_of_Heresy



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Words_of_Heresy/pseuds/Words_of_Heresy
Summary: While incarcerated in Arkham the Joker bonds with Kat, a young woman with a tragic past. When fate deals a cruel hand, the Joker promises to find Kat's baby. Intrigued against his better judgment Batman finds himself assisting the Joker, and together they may yet unravel the putrid yarn that holds Gotham together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * For those of you who know me from fanfiction.net I wrote this story in 2012 but never got around to finishing it. I thought I might do that this year.
> 
> ** Also I attempted to edit my writing to make it a more palatable dish ;)

The metallic stench of congealing blood resonates of the grimy walls. 'They were white once' he thinks, ‘maybe’. A scream rings out from the patient beside him. That's what they are, patients, or so they were told. Told everything they needed to know – independent thought prohibited. He was not allowed to think here, no one was, but he does so anyways, never much of a stickler for rules. A melodious gurgle – someone was choking on blood. Once music to his ears, not this time. She didn't deserve it. An electric hum buzzes to life and a Nazi with the biggest tool he's ever seen (and wasn't that a lovely pun) jams him in the ribs with a modified cattle probe. Jack bites through his ball gag. Tastes piss. Everything tastes like piss around here, smells like it to – except her.

She smells lovely. Sometimes she lets him rest his head in her lap and strokes those sweet scented fingers through his hair. She never complains about the stench or the food. Didn’t even frown when they booked her in his cell. Never cried. Never begged for mercy. Not once did her spirit succumb to the nightly beatings of overzealous guards, or the initiation rape by her fellow inmates to joyous hoots of perverted orderlies. Things designed to drive you mad – to justify the treatment.

Another scream. Softer this time. Giving up. Like everyone else did. A vivisection. Now that was cruel. Crueler than anything he's ever done to a woman. Ladies were delicate, should be treated with some suave. Not butchered on camera without a drop of anesthesia. She deserved better. They all did. But they could all burn in hell. He only ever cared about her. The only one who did. He attempts to sigh through his gag while simultaneously swallow down a glob of spit. The cattle probe announces itself functional again and charges for his ribs.

* * *

 

_"What is that?" Kat tapped him playfully on the head._

_"My baby."_

_"_ _Baby?"_

_"Yes my baby girl Emma."_

_"Why Em-ma?" She shrugged._

_"Mother's name." Joker stifled a yawn and turned his head in her lap, gently pressing his nose against the inside of her thigh. She giggled, which came out surprisingly melodic given that they've been denied water for three days straight. Some new experiment requiring them to be severely dehydrated, aka "dry as a sac of hair". Jack gave the ultrasound scan another neutral look._

_"What was your mother's name?" she asked._

_"BBB."_

_"BBB?"_

_"Biggest Bitch Betty."_

_"Oh." Joker liked that 'Oh' about as much as he liked talking about his mother. Time for a subject change._

_"Where is she?"_

_"Emma?" Another tap on the head with the photograph. Kat bit her bottom lip and raked blunt nails down the bottom of his scalp, tugging gently at the knotting there. "I…I don't know. They took her from me, before she was born. I was eight month along and Emma was due in four weeks time. Some one ordered pizza in 217 and the elderly woman who lived there was deaf, so I buzzed the guy up for her. Next thing I remember, a man was standing in my bedroom when I stepped out of the shower. He stuck me with something and I went into labor. I remember hearing her screaming, and I knew she was calling for me to help her but I couldn't even move a finger. By the time I was found, he was in the wind and two days later at the hospital I was arrested and sent here for a psych evaluation. Apparently I aborted my own baby by inducing labor then sliced her to pieces when she was born alive." She paused to wipe away a lone tear traveling crookedly down her cheek, "If I couldn't remember what really happed I would have killed myself long ago."_

_Joker frowned, strangely sympathetic. Love – no such thing. But what if? Still how can she love something she never saw, never held, never used, never bounced on the pavement or drove down the street? Maybe a woman thing. Or a baby thing. Then again why did people make such a big deal about babies? Wasn't that hard to make one. Why go all out to steal someone else’s? Crazy folk no doubt. Crazy soon to be dead folk. Arching his neck in her lap Jack gave her an upside down frown. 'Need to say something,’ he thinks. ‘Cut the power before she floods the cell.'_

_"I'll break you out of here sweet cheeks." Kat smiled. Fat tears rolled loose and dripped off of her chin. Leaning down she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his nose._

_"Time for bed Jay."_

* * *

 

"Come on mommy, we gotta hurry or eh... we might get stuck here," Jack gestures at the ten or so orderlies attempting to break free from the rubber cement on the floor. The foaming liquid inches closer to his hunched over cellmate.

"I can't. Ah! It hurts Jay. I can't walk!" Jack ran over and, easily lifting her bridle style, rushes for the exit. Half way to the main road he knows something's wrong. Arms that were so tightly woven around his neck when they ran through the door, now hung loose with barely any strength behind them. Stopping short of the bushes where he knew his lackeys hid the truck, Jack gently lowers Kat to the ground; unable to look away from her perspiring, yellow face and dull, glassy eyes.

"Where does it hurt?" he says. She gestured in the general vicinity of her privates. "Oh boy," he sighs, scratching the nape of his neck with one purple clad hand, "or girl, definitely girl. Ok…girl, let's have a…look-see shall we." He bravely tugs her shirt up at the same time he tears her pants down a few inches. A black bruise roughly the size of a dinner plate floats menacingly atop her naval. Around it puffy stitches ooze infected, purple pus. 'Damn' and he really loved that color. "Ah... I think you're…gonna be ok. We just need to get you in the car and then I'll get a doctor to…"

"No."

"Wh-"

"No Jack. I'm dying. I know that. I can feel it." She strains for a moment, reaching up to brush his cheek with one shaking hand. "Promise me…promise me you'll find my baby?" Joker nervously glances away. "Promise me" she insists.

"Ok, I promise, but I don't even know where to start looking and really you’ve got me confused with a good guy like Batman, or that detective in ultra nerd specks…" He looks back but it is to late. Sighing hard Jack lowers her lids. A sign of respect he wouldn't be caught dead showing anyone else. "Peace baby girl," he mutters, rises and walks away while the beat of police helicopters, wailing sirens, and frantic, desperate, screams play her funeral march.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce woke to the stringent ring of his alarm clock. Six am on the dot and it's not even a week day. Alfred was too old fashioned for his own good. Slapping the nauseating device with enough force to shake the table, the caped crusader flopped back on to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Maybe if he pressed hard enough he would suffocate. Anything to the alternative. Another banquet in the name of justice, or some shit like that. Yeah justice for the fat cats – that's what this city is all about.

Alfred barged in without knocking and Bruce didn't give a fuck. Though he might mention in later. Maybe half way through his last cup of coffee. He didn't trust the old bastard not to put something nasty in his morning Joe should he shout at him before breakfast.

"Morning sir."

"I am aware."

"It appears not sir."

"Tell me Alfred why does the word morning automatically come with an extension of 'get up'?"

"Because sir, most men sleep well enough to associate those two words together without difficulty."

"Most men don't run around three quarters of the night catching bad guys."

"Touché sir, still I must insist you get up."

"Go away."

"No. The managing director for the banquet will be here at seven thirty sharp. She's quite a lady. I doubt even Batman can withstand her iron personality. That's why I believe it is prudent to have you prim and ready for her arrival, to avoid any incidents."

"It's Prudence isn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"Give me a moment to drown myself in the shower Alfred."

"No can do sir, though a shower sounds like a marvelous idea. I will be back in ten minutes and for modesties sake you had better be in that shower or fresh out; or believe me I will not hesitate to enlist Prudence in helping me wash you.” Springing up and briskly walking to the bathroom, Bruce snapped over his shoulder before he slammed the door.

"Thanks Alfred that won't be necessary."

"I thought not," whistled the smiling butler.

* * *

 

The banquet was perfect – though of course nothing less could be expected from the best event planner in the country. Prudence Steel was a woman of many talents. Already in her mid-fifties and still as sprite as a 12 year old girl. What her character lacked in warmth, it made up for in her over exuberance for social integration. Prudence knew everyone, and everyone knew Prudence. Not everyone liked Prudence, but that was beside the point. Her retrospective career had led her to meeting some very influential people in almost every money making industry in the world – and she made it her sacred duty to introduce Bruce to every last one of them. Suggestively flirting with the CEO of Goth Bank, Prudence finally dropped off her burden for the night around midnight, among a group of very drunk, very cheery politicians and their very dazzling, very plastic wives.

"I still believe this year is yours Jerry. Not a man in Gotham can resist voting for you now, not after that speech you gave on anti-terrorism and supporting our troops,” said State General Myers. A balding, rotund man who hadn’t seen open combat since the 60’s, when his daddy’s media fortune bought him safe passage home from Vietnam straight into a cushy government job at an elevated rank.

"Yes that was truly inspirational Jeremiah, so very patriotic,” added his wife, ostentatiously drumming acrylic nails against her diamond-encrusted clutch. Jeremiah Wood, a Gotham senator and in Wayne's opinion one of the biggest boobs in the universe humbly raised his glass.

"Thank you Charlotte, Bill. I must say I'm hopeful for candidacy this year. And I know if I'm elected to run I’d like to think I could overthrow that liberal ass White without so much as a hiccup. But you all know, as well as I do, that we're not out of the woods yet. The road ahead may be…" 'Ah,' thought Bruce, taking a long drink of scotch to cover up his smirk, 'there it is, J. Woods famous verbal diarrhea.' "I'm sure you agree Mr. Wayne." All eyes fell on Bruce who plastered on his charming smile No. 1 and slowly lowered his glass.

"Yes what is a nation with out a strong political party to lead the way?" Wood's smile tightened marginally. Subtlety, always a sign of a good politician. "Yes Mr. Wayne,” he said, voice only slightly strained. “Though we’ve moved on to discussing why single women who are unable to give proper care to their young, should be dealt mandatory abortions. For the sake of the infant you understand?" Bruce, well aware that moments ago his jaw, having fainted in shock and thought it high time to retire there, ignored the awkward looks he was receiving. They clearly thought he was a little bit slow. Well fuck them. He wasn't the one spouting this diabolical nonsense.

"Ah… please excuse me," he managed to choke out, and bee-lined for the other end of the room, before his better judgment could shatter, along with his scotch glass, against Wood’s head. Scratch that. Why waste good scotch? When his wife’s fist-size, ruby pendent was so close at hand.

"There you are, my darling boy!" "Prudence…" "Did you speak to Jeremiah Wood, he’s up for candidacy you know? Charming man, and great supporter of Wayne Industries." "Wayne Industries does not need his support." "Nonsense." Bruce made to argue, but she quickly pressed one index finger against his lips. "Darling before we get into this argument, that will most likely require me to slap some sense into you, I must inform you that Alfred contacted me. Apparently he needs you to return to the manor immediately. I tried telling him that I own you for the night, and that un-banquet related matters can wait, but he was quite…" Bruce stepped around her and headed for the exit. "Wait darling where are you going?" But he was already out of sight. "Oh well," Prudence sighed and downed her Martini like a shot. "Mr. Avery! How lovely to see you again, and this must be your wife Holly. Hello darling…"

* * *

 

"Why didn't you contact me sooner?" said Bruce, stepping into the Bat cave.

"I only just found out sir, please be reasonable."

"What happened?"

"From what Gordon sent through, it appears that the Joker has escaped Arkham. He was holding his cellmate hostage for the duration of his escape, and managed to detain the orderlies with a rubber cement mixture that consisted of a slow acting, hazards' acid. So by the time the men were extracted their feet were beyond help.” Alfred pressed a button on the remote and a photo of a blonde woman appeared on the screen. “The hostage, one Kat Jones, institutionalized for infanticide, was found dead about a kilometer of the premises. It is assumed that the Joker killed her once he was safely far enough from the asylum. He used a get away car to disappear into the busy evening traffic. Oh and one more thing,” he pressed another button. “An autopsy report arrived a moment before you came. It appears Miss Jones was brutally raped, and savagely beaten, over a prolonged period of time. Since she was the Joker's cellmate it is safe to assume he brutalized her extensively while incarcerated. Therefore we must act under the assumption that the Joker is probably far more unhinged at this point then he was during the Dent fiasco."

"Thank you Alfred. Is my suit ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I think it’s time the ' _caped crusader_ ' did his nightly run.”


End file.
